


By Any Other Name

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tuesday, Harry wakes up next to Louis. That’s not <i>exactly</i> the weird part, except for the fact that he is pretty sure that he didn’t go to sleep next to Louis last night on account of Eleanor being on tour with them (which he’s not <i>mad</i> about per se, but you know, it’s always better when <i>he’s</i> the one getting the Louis love). No, the weird part is that he thinks he might have boobs.</p><div class="center">--or--<br/><i>What happens when Harry and Eleanor swap bodies.</i><br/></div>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Other Name

**[By Any Other Name](http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/305250.html) **

On Tuesday, Harry wakes up next to Louis. That’s not _exactly_ the weird part, except for the fact that he is pretty sure that he didn’t go to sleep next to Louis last night on account of Eleanor being on tour with them (which he’s not _mad_ about per se, but you know, it’s always better when _he’s_ the one getting the Louis love). No, the weird part is that he thinks he might have boobs.

Then again, he did have a lot to drink last night, so it’s possible that these are _not_ boobs and that he _did_ somehow sleep in Louis’ bed last night. Though if that’s the case, he wonders where Eleanor is.

Louis gives him a half sleepy smile and says, “Morning, El.”

 _Oh_ , thinks Harry, _so they are boobs_.

 

Harry – the one with actual Harry-parts, he means – bursts into the room ten minutes later. Harry – the real one who’s now pretty sure he’s somehow become Eleanor over night – eyes him suspiciously, looking for signs that Eleanor might be hiding inside his body. Whoever is in there is staring at him equally distrustfully.

Louis looks back and forth between them with a raised eyebrow. “Morning, Haz,” he offers cautiously.

“ _Eleanor_ ,” the inhabitant of Harry’s body says in annoyance and tosses an accusative glare at Harry-in-Eleanor’s body. “What did you do?”

Louis misunderstands and says a touch defensively, “Harry, what are you talking about? She didn’t do anything. We just woke up.”

Harry arranges his face in his best “hey, I’m innocent here” look. Or at least, he hopes he does, because while he may be a master of charm, he’s not entirely sure how Eleanor’s facial muscles work. He hopes he’s not accidentally grimacing.

Either Eleanor has not figured out how to work Harry’s facial muscles either or she’s _actually_ grimacing. She snaps, “No, I mean _I_ am Eleanor! He did something to me.” She points a finger at Harry.

 _Ok, so it_ was _a grimace_ , Harry thinks. Which is good, because that means he’s probably making a very lovely face that he hopes is a cross between bemused and concerned. When Louis shoots him an incredulous look, Harry’s sure he’s absolutely nailing the facial expression.

Louis says, “How much did you have to drink last night, Harry?”

“It’s Eleanor!” she protests. “Tell him!”

Harry raises his hands and hears himself say in Eleanor’s voice, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Harry.”

 

After Eleanor has huffed off Harry takes a shower, as quickly as possible. He feels a bit dirty seeing Eleanor naked, even though objectively he knows it’s not like he can _help_ it. He wonders, not for the first time, about Eleanor and Louis’ sex life, because if he thinks seeing Eleanor naked is inappropriate…

Harry’s not exactly sure why he didn’t fess up when Eleanor confronted them this morning, chalks it up to the hangover and the shock of it all. Also he figures that talking about it wouldn’t do any good and besides, it just seems like this is too good an opportunity to pass up. Harry’s not planning anything _devious_ , after all. He just wants to have a little fun. And if the look on Eleanor’s face this morning is any indication, this is going to be fun indeed. Plus, how long could it last?

 

That day on the bus to Toronto Harry shares a seat with Louis and it’s not actually that different from when he was really Harry and shared a seat with Louis. Although truthfully Louis is more boring with Eleanor. It’s a bit like all of the snuggling with none of the dick talk, and penis jokes have always been Harry’s favorite.

Harry briefly contemplates smacking Louis in the balls just for fun, but has a feeling that Eleanor wouldn’t do that. But now that he’s thought of Louis’ balls, his mind can’t help but go to evil places. What if he gives Louis a handjob on the bus right here? This also seems like something Eleanor probably wouldn’t do, so maybe not the best idea. But on the other hand, it sounds really hot, plus there is the added bonus that Eleanor herself might catch them, which is deliciously awkward.

Just then Louis nudges him, says, “What are you thinking? You’ve got a real funny look on your face.” 

Harry realizes he’s been chewing on his finger and semi-staring at Louis’ crotch. He says, “You look so good. I just want to be with you.” 

He means it seductively, but in Eleanor’s voice it comes out a bit embarrassed. Louis gives a little smile, pulls Harry in to his chest and kisses the top of his head. Harry lets out an exasperated sigh and spends the next 30 minutes eyeing Louis’ lap, dying to reach this alien little hand into his pants. 

 

At the hotel in Toronto they hang out on the balcony, a mix of fans and photographers stationed below them. Harry folds himself into Louis’ lap, securing Louis’ arms around himself. Harry feels so small in Louis arms. It’s a weird sensation. He looks down at his body, thinks, _God, Eleanor is skinny_. He wonders briefly how much she eats. It better not be just salads and stuff.

He hooks his right thumb and pinky around his left wrist and examines all the remaining room, sees how far up his arm the circle can travel before the thumb and pinky are forced apart. Louis sees this, says, “What are you doing?”

Harry responds, “Measuring.”

Louis chuckles, kisses Harry’s neck. It’s a bit of a nothing kiss, but Harry still can’t help himself and a warm smile spreads across his face. Eleanor is hovering nearby and she’s been pretending to look out at the fans but now she turns to meet Harry’s eyes directly. A look of realization crosses her eyes and she says suddenly, “ _Oh_.”

 _Oops_? thinks Harry, but quickly dismisses the thought. After all, it’s already a pretty crazy situation…what’s the worst that can happen?

 

When Harry and Louis go inside 15 minutes later, Harry spots Eleanor and Niall sitting together and hears his own voice distinctly say, “Yeah, man, love these American girls. Actually, I’ve been thinking about getting circumcised, heard they like that better.”

Harry feels himself choke a bit. It comes out like a high-pitched wheeze. Eleanor turns her head to him, gives him a satisfied smile, and says, “What about it, Eleanor? How do you feel about circumcised versus uncircumcised penises? What do _you_ think I should do?”

Harry is determined not to squirm under her gaze. _She wouldn’t dare_ , he thinks. He says as calmly as possible, “I think most women prefer uncircumcised, actually. I know I do.” As he says the last bit, he reaches back and obviously cops a feel on Louis, lets his hand linger there, rubbing him.

Louis jumps a little in surprise and Niall raises his eyebrows. Eleanor narrows her eyes and says, “Classy.”

“You asked,” Harry says sweetly, hand still working on Louis, who he can tell is holding his breath. 

Eleanor shakes her head and flounces away. Harry thinks, _do I always walk like that when I’m angry?_ He sincerely hopes not or the whole thing with Louis might be even less of a secret than he thinks it is. 

“Wow, what’s up with him?” Louis asks in a cracking voice, pushing Harry’s hand away finally, face flushed.

Niall says, “Ah, you know how he gets.”

Harry is about to be offended by that but then catches the look that Louis throws Niall and can tell they are trying to secretly communicate. He wonders if everything is always this obvious or if he’s cheating because he has insider knowledge. 

Harry says, “What, jealous?”

Louis laughs it off, saying, “Nah, he’s not jealous, but he hates to be upstaged, which you did beautifully, darling!”

 _Ok, well played, Louis_ , Harry thinks. Maybe they’re not so terrible at hiding it after all. 

 

When they’re back in their shared hotel room, Harry starts to feel a bit nervous. It’s one thing to grope Louis – he’s done that before (though not as many times or as often as he would like, but he figures it’s a pretty new thing, just since Australia, so give it time) and he’s sure Eleanor must’ve too. But it’s quite another if Louis wants to grope him or worse: have sex with him. He’s sure that’s been done before too, but it feels like clearly violating Eleanor, like she would be having sex against her will. Harry doesn’t want to feel like a rapist.

He sincerely hopes that Eleanor feels the same and doesn’t want to be a genital mutilator. 

Louis doesn’t look _particularly_ amorous, but one never can tell, so Harry excuses himself to the bathroom and begins to rifle through Eleanor’s things. He tells himself that this is only a violation of personal _property_ or is at least the lesser of two evils, and therefore okay. His eyes settle on a tub of goop. _Perfect_ , he thinks. 

Two minutes later he comes out of the bathroom, face green with mud mask, hair knotted into two buns that look remarkably like ears perched on top of his head. Louis gawks at him. 

“What’s with the face?” he asks.

“Mud mask,” Harry replies. “Now, I can’t talk, because it creates creases in the mask and it needs to harden uniformly so as to properly exfoliate and rejuvenate all my skin. Plus the creases are at exactly the places where I might one day get wrinkles, so it’s especially important that they receive this treatment.” 

He matter-of-factly dabs the mask at the creases he’s just created and sits perched daintily on a chair, looking at Louis unblinkingly. He thinks, _there. That ought to do it_. 

Louis is looking at him like he is some sort of exotic bird. Harry reaches up and self-consciously pats one of his hair-ears, tucks a stray hair into the bun, hmphs a little. 

Louis laughs, says, “You are really crazy today. I like it.” 

 

The next morning Eleanor shoves his phone in front of his face. “Your phone is driving me crazy. It’s locked and you’ve gotten like 300 messages. Also, I want _my_ phone.”

Harry looks around cautiously before pulling Eleanor’s phone out of his pocket. He’s about to hand it over when he notices that Eleanor is actively glaring at him. He lets his eyes wander briefly to her crotch (that is to say, the one that used to belong to him) and thinks the better of simply handing over the phone. 

“Maybe we should make a deal,” Harry says.

Eleanor doesn’t really look like she wants to make a deal, reaches for her phone. Harry pulls it away and she sighs, says, “What’s the deal, then?”

“Just so we’re clear,” Harry begins, “this whole situation isn’t my fault. But since we’re in it, I think we should make the best of it.”

“I’m not hearing a deal in there,” Eleanor says dryly. 

“Right, ok, well first: are there things you would rather not have happen?” Harry asks.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Eleanor responds. She does not look amused.

Harry sighs, just comes right out with it. “For example, I would rather _not_ be circumcised. And also, I’d prefer it if you don’t masturbate because it kind of disturbs me to think of it. It’d almost be like we were hooking up and honestly I don’t fancy that.”

Eleanor shoots back, “Right. And how about you don’t shag my boyfriend. Though I’m pretty sure you’d like to, wouldn’t you then?”

 _Not in_ this _body_ , Harry thinks. What he says is, “It’s a deal. Now onto what we’d _like_ to have happen.” 

“You mean besides returning to our own bodies again?”

“Obviously,” Harry says. He’s studiously not thought about that at all. Since he has no idea how this happened, he has no idea how they’ll undo it. He’s not even sure how he’d go about finding out. Best not to think about it yet. 

Eleanor thinks for a minute. “Well, I suppose it would be nice to actually perform on stage. It always looks fun. But of course I wouldn’t want to screw up the very complex dance moves you guys do.”

Harry chooses to ignore the sarcasm and responds, “Great. I can teach you all the moves, the whole show.” 

Eleanor actually gives a real smile for the first time at that. “So what’d you like?”

“Just…don’t tell anyone yet,” Harry says hesitatingly. 

“Well, I already tried that yesterday and you saw how it went,” Eleanor responds matter-of-factly. Harry doesn’t say anything. She continues, “Besides the fact that no one will believe us or they’ll think we’ve gone mad, why not?” The anger is gone from her voice and she seems genuinely perplexed. 

Harry isn’t entirely sure himself but he says, “I dunno, a bit of a social experiment maybe? It’s fun to experience everything from another point of view, no? And if Louis, I mean, the boys knew, it wouldn’t be…authentic, if you know what I mean.”

“So really it’s _scientific research_ , is it?” Eleanor says, eyebrows raised. 

“Exactly!” Harry says triumphantly. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Eleanor intones. She looks at him hard for a minute, rolls her eyes, and says, “Ok, I’ll play along, but you keep your research out of Louis’ pants.”

Harry thinks of protesting that he’s already agreed to no sex but then thinks the better of it. He decides to quit while he’s ahead and hands Eleanor her phone.

 

The next day they all head to Niagara Falls and even though everyone else is there too, it feels a little bit like a date for Harry. After all, rain slickers are _very_ romantic. 

He’s trying to play it off in his head as a joke, but Louis keeps wrapping his arms around him, kissing him, and Harry can’t help but think, _this is what it would be like_.

Later they walk around the city hand in hand and there is definitely a paparazzo following them. Harry has a sneaking suspicion that either Louis or their publicist is responsible, because there’s been plenty of times that he himself has gone to a Starbucks without it being a circus. And _he’s_ supposed to be the heartthrob! 

He feels awkward, like he should drop Louis’ hand. But Louis keeps holding his hand tightly, even smiling and waving for the pap. And even though the guy is practically stalking them, Harry has to admit that being out in public like this feels kind of nice.

 

When they’re back in the hotel, Louis checks his twitter and begins to mutter under his breath, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. Harry’s seen that look before and knows that nothing good ever follows it. Louis exhales loudly and turns an injured look to Harry. He says, “Why didn’t you _tell_ me about this?” 

Harry has no clue what Louis is talking about. He doesn’t follow Eleanor on twitter, which is his passive aggressive way of disapproving of the relationship. He makes a concerned face, says, “I…didn’t want to upset you?” and hopes it’s the right response. 

He thinks that it might’ve been nice for Eleanor to have let him know about whatever drama occurred on twitter just so he was prepared. But Harry has a feeling she isn’t entirely pleased with him at the moment. She’d shot him a disapproving look when he and Louis were kissing at Niagara. “What? It’s above the belt,” Harry’d whispered to her when he could, but she hadn’t seemed convinced. 

Louis says, “I can’t believe they’re saying these things to you. It’s really going too far.”

Harry nods in agreement and before he can say anything, Louis is tapping away at the keyboard in annoyance. Harry discretely takes out his phone, hiding the fact that it’s not Eleanor’s phone (since he’s pretty sure Louis is observant enough to spot the difference, even in his state of aggravation), and checks twitter, reads, “@eleanorjcalder I hope your contract is expiring soon.”

 _Oh_ , thinks Harry. _Oh, that’s bad_. 

Louis makes a disgusted sound. “Ugh, unbelievable,” he says in a dramatic voice. “This girl actually thinks that Harry and I are in a relationship!” 

_Oh_ , thinks Harry, his chest tightening. It feels like an opportunity he can’t pass up. “Are you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light. 

Louis looks at him incredulously. “Why would you even ask that?”

Harry takes the plunge. “Because Harry’s in love with you.”

Louis shakes his head, laughs, says, “Pet, it’s all jokes. In love with me? No, he’s not.”

Harry thinks, _yes he is_ , but doesn’t correct him. 

 

Eleanor has been prepped for the show and the Much Music interview, but Harry is still nervous. He wishes there were no interview; there are just too many ways in which Eleanor can screw up. 

But he does feel like he’s back on her good side since he texted her to let her know about Louis’ reaction to the twitter incident and also to say he was sorry about the whole contract thing. He doesn’t think she’ll purposely say anything bad in the interview, but still, too much margin for error. 

Eleanor is a pro though and Harry actually feels quite proud watching her. Everything is smooth sailing until the interviewer says, “The fans wanted me to ask about Larry Stylinson. Now they made that name about you two.” 

Louis immediately jumps in and Harry knows Louis will say just the perfect thing to deflect it, he always does, but Harry tenses watching Eleanor, suddenly uncertain, looking down and playing with her bracelets. He wonders just how much, if anything, she suspects at this point. 

He sends up a brief prayer that she thinks it’s just Harry who has a crush and not that it’s gone beyond that. And also that she’s no longer annoyed with him. And that the interviewer will _change the subject_. He tacks on an apology for not praying more often, just to be safe. 

The interviewer asks, “But haven’t you kissed?” There’s a moment of hesitation and then Eleanor says, “No,” and she’s back on track. Harry relaxes again, promises silently to go to church every now and again, or at least to visit the big cathedral in whatever city they’re staying in next. He figures it’s the least he can do.

It felt a little bit like a close call and Harry realizes that the entire concert could also be that way. Usually it’s him whispering pornographic things in Louis’ ear but Louis can be just as bad sometimes and Eleanor’s not stupid. There’s only one thing to do.

 

“Niall, I need you to keep Louis and Harry apart on stage tonight,” Harry says. 

Niall looks at him like he’s crazy. “Hey, El. Um, what for?”

Harry says, “Because Louis might say something sexual and then Eleanor will know.” 

The “you’re crazy” look Niall is giving him does not subside. Niall says, “Heh? You’ll know what?”

“Not me, _Eleanor_ will know that we’ve been hooking up,” Harry says. He thinks maybe he should’ve planned this conversation a little better, practiced it in his head or something. 

“What? Me and you? What? I’m so confused right now,” Niall responds.

Harry sighs. The whole thing is going to sound ridiculous no matter _how_ he says it, so he might as well just be blunt. “Eleanor and I switched bodies, she’s me, I’m her. This is Harry Styles speaking right now. And if you let Louis talk to ‘Harry’ on stage tonight, Eleanor will realize that we’ve been hooking up. Which would be very bad. Am I being clear enough now?”

Niall raises his eyebrows, lets out a laugh and says, “Are you videoing me right now?”

Harry makes an exasperated noise. “Niall, this is serious, Eleanor can’t find out.”

“Aw, Eleanor, you don’t have anything to worry about, there’s nothing going on between Harry and Louis, just a little bromance,” Niall says sympathetically. “You heard the interview to—“ 

“Niall,” Harry cuts him off. “This is Harry. You walked in on me and Louis in New Zealand.”

“I…did not?” Niall says.

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry says, losing his patience. “Once you were fucking a girl and her dog came in and licked your balls. Believe me now?” 

Niall stares at him bug-eyed, glances around for hidden video cameras, and finally whispers, “Okay…”

“Okay you believe me now or okay you’ll help me?” Harry asks. “Preferably both.”

“Both,” Niall croaks out.

Harry smiles, says, “Good lad!”

 

Ever trustworthy, Niall manages to keep them apart and the concert goes off without a hitch. Harry texts Eleanor, “You did great,” smiles when he gets her text back, “It was awesome!”

It was kind of awesome, actually. Watching the concert from backstage was a whole different experience and he’s glad that he got to have it, just this once.

But then he gets to have it twice. After the Detroit show Harry googles “how to change bodies with someone.” 

Being Eleanor is nice and he loves the thrill of having such a public relationship with Louis (even though, to be honest, in private he’s running out of creative ways to keep Louis from having sex with him). But still, he thinks being Harry Styles is better than being Eleanor Calder. He hopes she doesn’t feel the same way, though certainly he wouldn’t fault her if she did. 

Plus, she’s headed back to England in a few days, and what then?

 

By the time of the Chicago show, Harry is wishing it were him up on stage again. He wants to be the one singing, he wants to be the one the fans are screaming for, he wants to be the one whose ear Louis is whispering into. 

_Oh_ , Harry thinks. _Oh shit_.

It’s a long whisper too and Harry’s been the recipient of enough of them that even from his obscured angle he can tell that it’s a sexual one. He _knew_ he should’ve gone to see Holy Name Cathedral when they rolled in to Chicago. It was just that he and Louis were busy shopping, and, well, he doesn’t really have a good excuse, but truly he’s sorry.

But maybe it wasn’t something _obvious_ and bad? He has a feeling that’s just wishful thinking when he sees Eleanor’s body go stiff and tense. He wishes he could see her face. Before he has time to contemplate deeply, the band introductions are done and they are about to sing “Save You Tonight.” 

All the other boys are on the floor as Eleanor starts to sing and walk to the front of the stage. Louis is trying to be cute, rolling around, getting in her way. At first Eleanor tries to navigate around him, but finally she pushes his face into her crotch and steps right over him. It could be just cute and playful, but Harry’s warning bells are all going off. There’s nothing much he can do now and there’s only two songs left anyway. 

And then it happens, right before they’re about to sing “What Makes You Beautiful.” Eleanor casually walks over to Louis and catches him completely off guard with a kiss, right there on the mouth, on stage in front of thousands of people and who knows how many filming phones. 

Harry’s heart is in his throat. He can clearly see Louis’ face, read the distress on it as he mouths ‘no’ before sinking down onto the monitor. And this time he can see Eleanor’s face too, triumphant, proud, and a little bit hard. The rest of the show passes in a blur and he barely notices when Zayn and Liam rip off Eleanor’s shirt exposing all the hard work Harry’s put into his body, Eleanor doubling over to hide it. He can’t wait to get out of the arena, is afraid of what’s coming next.

 

What comes next is Eleanor storming past Harry, bumping him hard, not accidentally, as she rushes by. Louis is right behind her and grabs her arm roughly, says, “What the hell, Harry!”

Harry meets Eleanor’s eyes and knows in an instant. _This is it, it’s all over_ , he thinks. 

Eleanor looks directly at him, spits out in a mock Louis voice, “Just two more days until I’m back in your bed. Wish it were tonight. I’m getting hard just thinking about touching you again.”

Louis turns to Harry, says, “El, I didn’t!” He wheels towards Eleanor says, “Harry, why would you say that to her?”

Harry covers his face as Eleanor rages, “ _You_ already said it to her, because _I’m_ Eleanor, like I told you _four days ago_! This whole time I thought it was just Harry who wanted you, but the two of you? For how long? How long, Louis?” 

Louis’ mouth moves but no sound comes out. He shakes his head a few times. He chokes out, “Harry…”

“El. Ea. Nor,” she corrects him. Then to Harry, “Deal’s off. You better tell him now.” 

She stares at Harry until he’s forced to whisper, “It’s true. I’m sorry, Louis.” 

“Harry?” Louis begins but this time he’s looking at Harry-in-Eleanor’s body. Harry nods. Louis looks crushed, like his entire world is crashing down. “Why? How could you, how could you lie to me, pretend to be her?”

“I just…” Harry starts in Eleanor’s wobbly voice. He feels like her lungs are too small, like he can’t get enough air. He feels like he’s suffocating. “I just wanted to know what it would feel like to be with you, really, no more sneaking around, hiding it from the boys, from the media, from the fans, from everyone. I wanted something that’s not a dirty secret.” 

Louis has his head in his hands, leaning over like he might be sick. Harry reaches out a hand to steady him. Eleanor’s skinny little hand looks all wrong on Louis’ back and Harry wants out of her body _now now now_ , wants to be really himself holding Louis up.

Louis pushes his hand away in disgust. Harry just chokes out, “Louis, I’m sorry, I just want to be with you, I’m so in lo—“ before Louis steadies himself and walks away.

 

That night Harry sleeps alone in their hotel room. The thought that Louis might be sleeping with Eleanor is haunting him. What would it all mean? Would that mean he wants to be with Eleanor, no matter whose body she’s in, or would it mean he wants to be with Harry, no matter who’s inside his body? He’s torturing himself thinking of it, can’t sleep at all.

He thinks about texting Eleanor to ask, but he has a feeling that their brief alliance is forever ruined. At four-thirty in the morning, he decides he just can’t stand it anymore and walks over to Eleanor’s room, knocks on the door. 

After a minute, she answers, stands just inside the doorway. She clearly hasn’t slept any either. Harry says, “Is he here?”

Eleanor mutely shakes her head. Harry exhales the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, takes another gulp of air and says, “I know you hate me right now, but I want to apologize and explain. Things with Louis…just happened.” He realizes how lame this sounds as he watches his own face’s frown deepen. 

“When?” Eleanor whispers. 

“Australia,” Harry begins. As he says it he realizes that everything was so much longer in the making that _when_ is almost meaningless. How can he pinpoint where the turning point really was? He takes a breath, says, “But I guess everything was just building for the whole two years. And I know I haven’t always been the nicest to you but it’s…just ‘cause I was jealous of what you have. So I understand if you hate me, but I’m sorry.”

Eleanor doesn’t say anything for a second, then, “It’s not you I hate. Or, I don’t know. I don’t know _who_ it is I hate, but I have to get out of this body. _Please_.” She starts to cry. 

 

The next morning Louis isn’t at breakfast. Niall comes and sits next to Harry. He says, “Lou’s pretty shaken up about the whole thing.”

Harry frowns, says, “Is he okay? Does he hate me?”

Niall sighs. “I don’t know, maybe. Think he feels confused, you know, sexually and otherwise. It’s a pretty big mindfuck, you know?” 

Harry does know. Niall continues, “Anyway, he says you two should still go minigolfing like you had planned. He thinks Mark might’ve already told some press people, so there might be cameras. Try to just act normal. ” 

Harry’s not even sure what that is anymore. 

 

They have the least romantic day of shopping and minigolf ever. Harry’s afraid to bring anything up with Louis and just hides behind big sunglasses the entire time. 

Towards the end of the afternoon, Louis says, “Are you going to use Eleanor’s ticket back to the UK?” His mouth twitches a little bit.

Harry frowns so hard his face aches. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll go see my mother. Maybe she knows what to do. Unless you want me to stay,” he finishes hopefully. 

Louis doesn’t quite look at him and his voice cracks when he responds, “I think maybe you should go see your mum.”

 

When it’s time to go to the airport, it’s Harry and Eleanor who cry. Louis is quiet and distant and Harry can’t read him at all. Harry hugs Eleanor and whispers, “I’m gonna figure this out, get us out of this. My mum’ll know what to do.” She nods and gives him a squeeze.

He turns to Louis, afraid to touch him. Something in Louis’ eyes looks so scared and unsure. They just hold each other’s gaze like that for a moment, both of them breathing raggedly, and then it’s time for Harry to go.

The plane ride back to London is the worst, loneliest plane ride he’s ever had. He’s never felt more miserable in his life. Eleanor’s already done him the kindness of texting her family that she’ll be too tired to see them when she arrives in London, so he can put off that charade for a day or two. 

When he lands, he’s tired but still hops in a rental car for the three-hour drive to his mother’s house. He sits in the car for what feels like another three hours gathering the courage to go up to the front door. He rings the doorbell because he doesn’t want to scare her by just barging in, practically a stranger. She opens the door, says in surprise, “Eleanor!”

“It’s me, Harry, mum,” he manages. “Something terrible’s happened.”

 

His mother sets a cup of tea in front of him and even though when he looks down it’s the wrong hand holding the teacup, everything else is so familiar that he almost feels like himself again. He’s waiting for his mother to question him about everything, but she doesn’t. What she says is, “He’ll come around, Harry.”

 

Two nights later his phone rings and it’s Louis. Harry wishes that a single thing had changed, that his voice was deeper, that his hands were his, but every last thing about him is still Eleanor. “Hello?” Harry says cautiously, hating the sound of his voice.

Louis exhales in response. Harry wonders if he was hoping to hear Harry’s voice, but then realizes that that’s ridiculous. He’s still with Eleanor, so he must know that nothing’s changed.

Finally, “It’s crazy, because it’s like you’re still right here with me, I mean I see you every day, but it’s not you. I feel absolutely insane.”

Harry has a million things he wants to say, starting with ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’ but instead he says, “Why?”

“Because I’m still so goddamned attracted to you, I want you so bad, but it’s all wrong if it’s not really you,” Louis says with a hitch in his voice. 

Harry feels like he might cry. “What about Eleanor?” He asks.

“Well, the good news is that somehow she _doesn’t_ hate us,” Louis says brightly. Then he sighs and says, “It’s over. I can’t make it work with her when she’s not what I really want. The craziest thing is last week I thought _maybe_ I could, even though I still had to try so hard to want it. Then it turns out all those crazy things she did, that made me think, ok maybe I can do this, it was you doing them.”

“So what do you really want?” Harry says softly. 

“I want _you_ ,” Louis says without hesitation.

Harry lets out a shaky breath. “But what if I never switch back to my real body. Will you still want me if I’m Eleanor forever?”

Louis is silent for what feels like an eternity. Finally he says with no uncertainty, “Yes.” 

 

The next morning Harry wakes up and doesn’t know where he is. He runs a hand down his chest. Flat. He does a closer inspection. Four nipples, check. He looks around. _Definitely a hotel room_ , he thinks. 

He needs to know which room Louis’ in, is dying to see him. He reaches for his cell phone, curses when he sees that the phone next to the bed is Eleanor’s, leaps from bed, and is about to run out of the room when he realizes he’s naked. This seems like a _clear violation_ of the rules he’d set out for Eleanor, but he’s too excited to even care. 

He pulls on a pair of underwear, runs into the hallway and pounds on the door across the way, praying that it’s Louis’ room. The door opens and it is. There’s Louis, sleepy-eyed and half-naked, looking every bit as good as he ever has. Harry is ready to burst.

They meet each other’s eyes and Harry can see realization begin to dawn on Louis. Before Louis can say anything, quick as lightening Harry reaches out his hand, finally his own, and smacks at Louis’ crotch. Louis doubles over, groans, “Ugh, right in the balls!”

When he straightens up he’s grinning like a madman. He pulls Harry into a hug, whispers, “I’m so glad you’re you,” and kisses him, right there in the middle of the hallway.


End file.
